


The Nargles Hung the Mistletoe

by chochowilliams



Series: Mysterious Mistletoe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Humor, M/M, Pre-Male Slash, post—hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chochowilliams/pseuds/chochowilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Christmas Eve and some antique Black family ornaments have been discovered in the attic of Grimmauld Place. Harry figures what remains of the Black family would appreciate them more than he ever could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nargles Hung the Mistletoe

**The Nargles Hung the Mistletoe**  
 **One-Shot**  
 **Written by:** chochowilliams  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or the characters, places or names. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.  
 **Summary:** It’s Christmas Eve and some antique Black family ornaments have been discovered in the attic of Grimmauld Place. Harry figures what remains of the Black family would appreciate them more than he ever could.  
 **Warning:** M/M, pre-slash, post-Hogwarts, drama, humor, femme!Draco (sort of)  
 **Pairings:** pre-Harry/Draco  
 **Inserts:** \--  
 **A/N:** This iwa my first attempt into HP fandom, though I have two other stories in the works. As I don’t use a beta, all mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy it and I didn’t screw it up too badly.

 

* * *

 

**Christmas Eve - Grimmauld Place**

Harry could not stop the laughter that erupted as soon as he saw Draco Malfoy on his doorstep. It wasn‘t as if it was a surprise. They’d only spoken by floo half an hour ago, but seeing the effects of the potions mishap in person rather then through the flames of the floo were two different things apparently.

“Yes. Yes. Ha. Ha,” Draco chortled dryly as he stepped into the foyer of Grimmauld Place. “It’s all just one big joke.” He removed his cloak and tossed it a waiting Kreacher along with his dragon topped cane, so similar to the one his father used to carry around.

“My apologies Malfoy,” Harry said as he stepped down from the staircase, “but you have to admit that it is pretty funny. Draco Malfoy--a girl.”

“Oh yes. It’s hilarious. I’m all in a tether about it. My side is in the process of splitting as we speak.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the dramatics.

If it was him, he supposed he would be--well, he wasn’t sure how he’d react in all honesty, as he’d never been turned into a girl before. He imagined he would be just as annoyed as Malfoy was about the whole affair.

“At least you still look like you Malfoy,” Harry pointed out. “Except for the, uhm…” He cleared his throat, feeling his face flush warmly. “You know.” He didn’t like how it came out in an embarrassed murmur.

Draco smirked. “They’re called ‘breasts’ Potter.”

“I know what they are,” Harry snapped to cover the flush that had turned into a full-blown blush.

Still smirking, Draco said, “That’s right! Seen them loads of times in those dirty magazines of yours.”

“Oh shut up.” Harry’s lips twitched.

“I see you didn’t deny it.”

Harry had to admit it felt good to bicker with Draco like this. It was nostalgic. It felt good. Ron and Hermione would think he’d gone off his nut for good if they knew how much Harry enjoyed these little quarrels with his ex-rival--they already thought he’d suffered irreparable brain damage in the war because he’d decided to call a truce with Draco. “And I see you know all about them,” he shot back. “Been stealing them have you?”

“Why would I when I have the real thing?”

Harry gave Draco’s feminine hourglass figure and double D cup size an appreciative glance, noticeable despite the suit. “I can see that.”

Draco snorted. “Yeah, well, get a good look Potter.” He held his arms out and turned around in a tight little circle. “Because this is as close to a piece of ass you’ll ever be getting.” It was a not so subtle dig at the fallout that had befallen Harry and Ginny.

“Whatever,” Harry rolled his eyes.

Draco smirked, knowing he’d won this round.

Harry offered his ex-rival something to drink.

“Chardonnay.”

Harry nodded at Kreacher who had deposited of Draco’s cloak and cane while the two of them had been speaking. Happy to be obliging the wishes of someone from the Black family, Kreacher bowed and vanished with a pop. “When will it wear off?” he asked in reference to the unfortunate side affects of the potions accident as he lead Draco up the staircase.

“Anytime now.”

“Good.”

Draco eyed Harry. “Jealous are we?”

Harry snorted. “Oh yes. I’m green with envy,” he deadpanned.

“As well you should be,” Draco replied seriously.

Actually, as amusing as seeing Draco in drag was, it was starting to creep Harry out. Who knew the blond Slytherin could be so eye-catching? Harry shook the thought aside. The sooner Draco turned back to normal, the better it would be for Harry’s sanity.

“You said you found them in the attic?” Draco asked as he followed Harry into what turned out to be the sitting room.

Harry crossed to the sideboard--on which rested a large cardboard box--across the room from the doorway under a set of windows. Weak winter light filtered into the room through the open Venetian blinds and lace curtains. “Kreacher did actually,” he corrected. “I hadn’t a clue they existed.”

Draco nodded and took the time to study the room.

Matching straight-backed chairs that had an antique air to them--just like the rest of the house--with a small round table between them sat before an intrinsically hand carved fireplace from which came the sizzle, crackle and pop of a blazing fire that was burning brightly. A large gold gilded mirror hung on the wall above the fireplace. A fresh bouquet of poinsettias sat on the marble mantel.

The floors appeared to have been newly refinished. In fact, all the wood in the room, including the fireplace as well as the paneling on the lower half of the wall, had that new glow about them. The upper half of the walls was papered in rich red wallpaper reminiscent of the Victorian era.

Bookcases on either side of a two-shelf glass-fronted bookcase were filled with books and varying sorts of knickknacks on the wall opposite the fireplace.

A second conversation area that included a sofa, two armchairs, end tables and a matching marble toped coffee table, on which was a book, was grouped before the bookcases.

In the corner to his right as one entered the sitting room was a round table on which was a Wizard’s Chess set. It appeared as if the game had been interrupted halfway through.

He watched Harry carry the box, which was either lighter than it looked despite it‘s size or had been charmed for easier handling, to the table. With a flick of his wrist, Harry vanished the chess set to the antique liquor cabinet along the back wall behind the table where other games were stored.

Draco was impressed. He had no idea that Harry could do wandless magic let alone non-verbal magic.

But as impressive as Harry’s continual magic abilities were and as noteworthy as the renovations to the ancestral home of the Black family was, something was missing and that something was a Christmas tree.

“Potter, where’s your tree? Don’t you celebrate Christmas?”

“It’s downstairs,” was the reply.

Harry had turned the downstairs front parlor where the Black family tree used to hang (which had since been painstakingly removed thanks to Kreacher and subsequently relocated to the Black vaults in Gringotts) into a Room of Requirement of sorts for the time being until he could figure out what he was going to do with it. He was contemplating the idea of returning it to its former state, as a formal parlor. He would have to ask Draco’s opinion before he left. At the moment, though, the room was where he’d put his Christmas tree this year.

“So you _do_ celebrate Christmas.”

Harry shot Draco a funny look over his shoulder as he unsealed the box. “Of course.”

Draco nodded as he strolled to Harry’s side at the table. “I see. I have yet to see any Christmas decorations. That is why I asked.”

“Oh! Well, we are in the middle of renovating and things are a bit hectic around here. Everything’s been shuffled around. We just unearthed the Christmas decorations,” Harry explained. They were found in the old curio cabinet. How they ended up there, Harry had no clue. Lady Black’s portrait was still missing--not that Harry was complaining.

“Ah.” Draco definitely knew how that went. He’d lost his favorite stuffed dragon the last time his mother decided to renovate the Manor. He still hasn’t been able to find it. “By the way, where is that house-elf of yours?” Draco glanced about in the hopes that the decrepit thing had arrived with his wine, but had been too courteous to interrupt while Harry and he were talking. No such luck. “How long does it take to pour a glass of wine?”

Harry opened his mouth to apologize for Kreacher, who was getting along in years, when a pop from behind them announced said house-elf’s arrival.

“Kreacher apologies,” said the elf’s slow, but deep and gravelly voice. “Kreacher was fetching Masters something to eat.”

Both men turned around. Standing before them was the ancient house-elf in a faded short-sleeve green T-shirt with an undecipherable decal on the front. On Kreacher, the shirt was more like a dress.

At one point, the shirt belonged to Regulus Black.

After the fall of the Dark Lord, Harry had decided to move into Grimmauld Place until he could find a more permanent residence. It soon became clear, though, that his temporary dwelling was that permanent place of residence. Unfortunately, this decision was what led to his break up with Ginny--not to mention befriending Draco as well as having Kreacher as a house-elf. She hated all three.

In order to make Grimmauld habitable for humans, spring-cleaning on a massive order was necessary. Many things were tossed, donated or put into the Black vault. It was such a huge undertaking that they still weren’t finished.

Kreacher had pilfered the shirt from the stuff Harry had decided to donate to local charities, both Muggle as well as magical. Harry hadn’t had the heart to order Kreacher to put the shirt back. Besides, technically, he had thrown it out. If Kreacher was in the mood to go dumpster diving, who was Harry to stand in the way?

Kreacher bowed over the silver sterling tray he was carrying that was loaded down with an open bottle of Chardonnay, two filled wineglasses and two slices of three layered chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and ganache filling.

“That’s fine Kreacher,” Harry said kindly. It was a good thing he’d ordered Kreacher never to punish itself for disobeying a direct order. Otherwise, the wine and the cake would have been sacrificed. What a waste that would have been.

Kreacher set the tray down on the coffee table before bowing once more to Harry and Draco and asked, “Is there anything more Kreacher can do for Masters?”

“No thank you Kreacher. You may go.”

Kreacher bowed and then vanished with a pop.

Draco continued to observe the spot from where Kreacher had disappeared. “Amazing,” he whispered.

“What is?”

“That _you_ of all people have a house-elf.”

Harry blinked. “What? Why’s that amazing?”

Draco gave Harry a look. “Are you or are you not a member of spew?”

Harry chocked on a bout of laughter.

_“It’s not spew. It’s S.P.E.W,”_ echoed in his head.

“I plead the Fifth,” Harry said, turning back to the box (1).

Draco blinked at the back of Harry’s head. There was a blank expression on his face. “What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

“Nothing. Never mind,” Harry said, digging through the box.

“Potter!” Draco hated to be dismissed like that, as if his inquiries were childish and therefore had no validation and could easily be tossed aside as non-important. The annoyance that flared through him gave rise to the strongest urge to cross his arms and stomp his foot as if he were a child, but he was able to suppress the urge--barely.

Feeling a headache coming on, Harry sighed. “I’m not going to answer the question,” he clarified. Since his search through the box to make sure nothing had been removed or damaged had been halted, his arms rested along the top of the box uselessly.

“And why not?” Draco demanded.

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I’d be incriminating myself.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth quirked.

“And Hermione would kill me,” Harry added under his breath.

Draco covered a laugh with a cough.

Not fooled, Harry tossed Draco a glare as he stepped away from the box. “Anyway, I’m not sure if you wanted any of these or not. Take whatever you want. Whatever you don’t take, I’m going to give to Andromeda and Teddy.”

Nodding, Draco reached inside the box. “How is my aunt?” he asked.

Harry shrugged. “She has her good days and her bad days,” he said honestly. “I think having Teddy has helped a lot.”

“That’s good.”

Draco pulled out a red square box out of the bigger cardboard box.. He lifted the lid. Inside were four large, round, red Christmas tree ornaments. Each was bigger than his hand. Around the nibs at the top was faux frost. The ornaments had belonged to his grandmother and were quite fragile. Carefully, he replaced the lid and set the ornaments aside.

The next box he took out was a rectangular one not much larger than his hand. Inside was a Santa Clause ornament. It was mostly silver in color except for the red Santa hat and white beard. He remembered this one as belonging to his great grandmother. Just by the feel, Draco could tell how fragile it was. He was nervous about handling it.

“I haven’t seen these in years,” Draco said as he replaced the ornament in its box and set it aside with the others. “Some of these I haven’t seen outside of photographs.”

On the sofa, Harry took a sip of wine as he watched Draco paw through the ornaments. Some he put aside into what was turning out to be a growing pile. Some he did not. Harry wondered what criteria Draco was using as he sorted through the Black Christmas ornaments.

It had definitely been a good move to contact Draco.

Harry exchanged his wine for the cake. He had just shoveled a large piece into his mouth when Draco exclaimed loudly. He quickly chewed and swallowed before putting the plate aside and standing up. “What‘s up?”

“This…” Draco’s voice wavered.

“Draco?” Harry called. He stepped forward.

Draco turned. In his hands was a blue box. The top of the lid was clear. Inside was what looked like a white angel holding something metallic in its hand.

“What is it?”

When Draco turned to look at him, Harry was surprised to see those silver eyes glistening.

Was Draco…crying?

“It belonged to my mother,” Draco explained. His voice was as unsteady as the hands holding the box. He returned his attention to the ornament. “Her mother gave it to her when she became of age.”

Harry understood, more than most people would, what it meant to have something, no matter how insignificant, that belonged to one’s parent, especially if said parent had passed on--something physical that helped to keep the memories alive. Harry didn’t remember anything about his parents except for their deaths thanks to the Dementors, but Draco had eighteen years worth of memories about his parents. While Harry could understand loss, losing someone who’s been such an integral part of your life for eighteen years was not something Harry could understand. If Draco’s reaction to this trinket was anything to go by, this new link was something significant indeed.

“The fairy is carved from mother-of-pearl.”

Harry swore as he stepped up behind Draco and studied the statuette over Draco’s shoulder.

The fairy--not an angel--had to be a good three or four inches in length and maybe two wide. There was so much intricate detail. The figurine was exquisite--breathtaking really. To have something so large carved from a single pearl was rare. It had to be worth a fortune. It was a good thing Mundangus had overlooked it during his thieving jaunts of Grimmauld.

“What’s it holding?” Harry asked. It appeared to be a flower of some sort.

“A narcissus. It’s solid fourteen carat gold.”

Harry was feeling lightheaded.

“Mother thought it was lost,” Draco continued. “When Grandmother passed, Mother wanted to bring it to the Manor, but she couldn’t find it. She cried for days. It was one of the last gifts Grandmother gave to Mother.”

Harry was honored that Draco trusted him so much to tell him something so private.

Draco gave the fairy figurine one last glance before turning to set it on the table with the rest of the trinkets he planned to take back to the Manor. He turned back to Harry. “Thanks Potter. You have no idea what this means to me. What it would have meant for my mother.”

Feeling embarrassed, Harry scratched the back of his head. He gave a Gaelic shrug. “You have nothing to thank me for Malfoy. They belong to you and to Teddy not me. Sirius may have named me his heir, but you and Teddy are the rightful Black heirs. You’re the last of the Black line. It’s why I named the both of you in my will. I did nothing that-”

Draco was shaking his head. “You really are a hero Potter.”

Blinking rapidly, Harry dropped his hand. “Huh? Why? Because I’m giving you what rightfully belongs to you?”

Draco sighed at the genuinely confused expression on Harry‘s face. It really wasn’t modesty was it? “There’s a saying Potter. A true hero is someone who doesn’t admit to being a hero. He’s someone who says he was just doing his job. That’s you to a T.”

Harry resembled a beached fish with his mouth opening and closing, but he couldn’t help it. Draco giving him compliments? Now he knew Hell must have frozen over. He was too astonished for words.

Chuckling, Draco stepped forward. “You truly are amazing.” Then without stopping to consider what he was doing, he leaned forward and kissed Harry.

Harry froze. He couldn’t move; he didn’t remember how to move. All thought fled; his mind was blank. He stared with unseeing emerald eyes at Draco’s wide forehead. He forgot how to breathe. His heart forgot how to beat.

When Draco finally pulled back, his pale complexion had a rosy tint. “I, uh…”

Speaking of ineloquent, Harry thought. “Yeah,” he said back. His lips were tingling.

“That, uh, never, you know, happened.” Embarrassed at what he’d done, Draco refused to look at Harry. If asked, he wouldn’t be able to properly say why he’d just kissed Harry bloody Potter. The two of them had been rivals since they were eleven. They’d hated one another as students at Hogwarts. They’d even been on opposite sides of the war. Now as young men, they’d put aside their childish grudges and were starting to become friends. How could he ruin such a fragile alliance by kissing Harry?

Idiot!

Unable to think just yet, Harry nodded and agreed. “Blame the nargles.”

The incoherency of that statement drew Draco out of his troubled and embarrassed thoughts. “Blame the what?” He latched eagerly onto this new thread--anything to forget what had just happened.

“The nargles,” Harry repeated. Thought was starting to return now that he had a topic that he could discuss that did not turn his mind to mush.

“What the hell is a nargle?”

Harry shrugged. “No idea. You’d have to ask Luna.”

“Ah!” That explained everything. How Harry could befriend someone like Looney Lovegood was a concept Draco had never been able to grasp. He wondered if she’d been dropped on her head as a child.

“You do realize that nargles are not real, don’t you Potter?” Draco inquired as he sampled the wine. Deeming it acceptable, he took an un-Malfoy-like gulp that nearly drowned the entire glass. Maybe he could get drunk enough that he’d be able to forget that he’d nearly ruined everything a moment ago.

“I am well aware of that,” Harry said. He grabbed the wine bottle from the tray and filled both of their glasses.

“There are noggles though.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“Noggles. Mischievous creatures they are.”

“Never heard of them. Sure you didn’t make them up?”

Draco snorted. “Noggles are quite real. Unlike your nargle.”

“Hey, they aren’t mine. They’re Luna’s.” The last was said in a half-whisper right before he took a sip of wine.

“Oh! That’s much better.”

Harry chuckled. “Sometimes I wonder though,” he said, staring down into his wineglass.

“Wonder what?”

“If they aren’t real.”

Draco frowned. “If what aren’t real?”

“Nargles.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh, God, Potter. Why would you think something as asinine as that?”

Instead of answering, Harry pointed towards the ceiling.

Draco frowned. His brow creased in confusion. Had Harry turned into a Mime? “What?”

Harry continued to point up at the ceiling.

Still frowning, and vowing to curse Potter into the next millennium if this was some sort of trick, Draco reluctantly tipped his head back and peered up at the ceiling. His grey eyes grew wide. “What. The. Hell?” There growing out of the ceiling as he watched was mistletoe. “How’d you do that?” he demanded, turning back to Harry.

Harry raised his hands. One was empty. The other was holding his wineglass. “I didn’t.”

“Bull crap Potter. Mistletoe doesn’t just appear out of thin air.”

“If you say so,” Harry said dismissively, thinking about that time in the Room of Requirements right before he kissed Cho.

At the time, he’d thought it was the room itself that was responsible. Now he wasn’t so sure. He supposed Draco could be right. He could be doing it. Or more accurately, his wild magic, but it’s never done something like this. Blown up Aunt Marge yes. Apparated him to the roof of the gym when Dudley and his goon squad were chasing him yes. When his emotions were high, his magic had the tendency to spiral out of control. But to grow mistletoe out of the ceiling? That was a little too strange even for him.

To keep from thinking too deeply about why his magic would grow mistletoe above him and Draco, Harry accused Draco himself of being the culprit. Of course, Draco was none to happy about being accused.

“Why the bloody hell would I do something as ridiculous as that?”

Harry shrugged. “Hormones?”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Malfoy, you are currently a girl.”

Draco narrowed his gaze. The temper of the room suddenly dropped. “And that means what exactly?”

Harry gulped. “Uh…The nargles hung the mistletoe?”

Draco continued to study Harry for several long seconds before turning away. “That’s what I thought.” He turned his back on Harry with a flourish and dropped down into the seat. He set his wineglass on the tray--it wouldn’t do to leave rings--and grabbed the untouched slice of cake. He suddenly had a craving for chocolate. Picking up his fork and dug in. “By the way,” he said around a mouthful of cake, “I am not a girl. I just happen to have breasts at the moment…which will vanish soon…Hopefully,” he muttered.

Harry heaved a sigh. He really hoped so. It was doing crazy things to his head…and his sanity. Plopping down onto the sofa, Harry took up his cake. “Happy Christmas Malfoy,” he said, raising a forkful of cake.

 

**…The End**

 

**(1)** For those who don’t know what “to plead the Fifth” means, it refers to the Fifth Amendment in the US Constitution where “defendants or witnesses in criminal trials need not testify against themselves”. It means they don’t have to say anything if doing so will mean incriminating themselves. (And yes, I am very much aware that outside the US Embassy, it has no legal connotations in the UK thank you very much. I shouldn’t have to explain its existence for you to understand why it‘s mentioned.)

 


End file.
